Fate of Awakening Love
by Medea Arduinna
Summary: Hermione and Draco go back in time to find a sacred sword that was said to have been destroyed when Rowena Ravenclaw, and Hermione finds that the feelings she begins to harbor for Draco are unavoidable. Can she learn to love Draco while at the same time t
1. Default Chapter

Fate of Awakening Love

**Chapter One - Of Potions and Time-Turners**

            Moonbeams fell across the stone floor, lighting the corridor just enough for Hermione Granger to find her way down it. Even her thick bathrobe didn't keep out the drafts of cold wind that were drifting through the cracks in the windows, and there was no warmth coming from the braziers along the wall, as they had long died out. As Hermione pushed open the library door, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "_Lumos_" and started her search along the bookshelves for the large book she was to use for her project in Arithmancy.

            "I should've known _you_ would be in here in the middle of the night," drawled a familiar (and unpleasant at that) voice. Hermione whirled around to find Draco Malfoy staring at her with his cold steel-colored eyes.

            "What are you doing here?"

            "I was looking for something," he replied, rolling his eyes, flicking a lock of his silvery-blonde hair out of his eyes. "But I figured you would've known that, since you _do _know everything, right?" _Ignore him...just find the book and don't mind him_, Hermione thought. **_Yeah, easier thought than done_, another annoying voice replied. _Oh Great Wizards, now I'm hearing things._**

            "I know more than you do," she retorted.

            "Oh, you do?" He said, stepping close to her, cornering her against a bookshelf. Her heart started racing, her palms growing sweaty. She gripped her wand tighter, forcing herself not to get lost in his eyes, to not notice the way his eyes were running from her hair to the fuzzy, pink slippers covering her feet. Something tugged at her heartstrings, but she tried to turn her mind to other things. _I am _not_ falling for Draco Malfoy...._

            "Look, Draco, I really have to find this book, so I'd appreciate it if you left me alone," she said, once she finally got her voice back.

            "I was here first, Mudblood." Hot tears immediately stung at her eyes, and she looked away, determined not to cry in front of him. "Aww, did I make you cry? Too bad Weasley's not here, I'm sure he'd stick up for you, being as he always has to rescue his little Mudblood girlfriend." It took every ounce of Hermione's willpower to not slap him. She pushed past him, and went to the other side of the room, looking among the bookshelves, but as she got to the second one, her vision blurred with tears and she, still determined not to let him see her cry, ran out of the library silently, all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. _Just when I thought he was acting civilized...I should've known. What's gotten into me? I should realize that he's never going to change, no matter how much older he gets...he'll turn out to be just like that bastard of a father he's got._ All these thoughts were spinning through Hermione's mind as she splashed her face with cold water to get rid of the tearstains on her cheeks.

            "Maybe I should tell Harry and Ron," she said to her reflection, then shook her head. "No, that'll only make things worse...Ron'll probably start a fight with Dr - er, Malfoy - and that's all I need." Drying her face with a towel, she shuffled back into the seventh year girls' dorm and climbed into her four-poster, pulling the sheets and comforter up around her. And, after hours of lying awake worrying, she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

***

            "HERMIONE! WAKE UP!" Streaks of sunlight poured through the gap in Hermione's curtains, which didn't help her situation any when Ron screamed in her ear.

            "Dammit, Ron, I have a headache, do you mind?" she mumbled into her pillow as her head throbbed even more.

            "Sorry, but we've been trying to wake you for an hour!"

            "It's only been a few minutes!" Harry exclaimed quickly.

            "I don't care. You two can go to Hogsmeade without me."

            "But it wouldn't be the same!" Ron insisted. "Please, 'Mione, come on, just this once."

            "Don't call me that!" She screamed finally, sitting up and throwing her pillow at him. He ducked, and it hit Harry instead, whose glasses fell to the floor along with the pillow. He grinned.

            "What did I do?"

            "You're waking me up with him!" Hermione shrieked. "Now please let me get back to sleep!" Truth was, she'd been looking forward to the Hogsmeade trip for a while, but she was just too upset from last night to go, since Draco would surely be going. _Why am I letting him bother me like this? Usually I just push it aside if he calls me a Mudblood...but something was different about last night...._

            "Hermione?" Her attention snapped back to the two boys looking at her with confused expressions on their faces. Harry's was a little more concerned. Ron's was a cross between confused and annoyed.

            "I just don't feel really good today."

            "What's wrong?" Harry instantly said.

            "My head hurts, I told you."

            "That's it?" Ron said, scoffing. Hermione made a growling-sort of noise and flopped back down, pulling the other pillow over her head.

            "LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screamed. 

            "Come on, Ron, I don't think she's going to come," Harry muttered, leading Ron out of the room. Hermione threw the pillow across the room just in one last burst of anger and glared at the closed door.

            "About time you realized that." She settled to go to sleep again once she'd retrieved her pillows but try as hard as she might, she couldn't go back to her peaceful slumber. _Damn them_, she thought irritably, got up and walked immediately to the shower. She let the hot water peel away the layers of sleep and bad memories from last night, dried off and got dressed, but instead of going to Hogsmeade, stayed in the common room reading until she'd finished the book. She decided now would be a good time as any to get lunch in the Great Hall - surely Draco and his friends would still be at Hogsmeade. 

            When she entered the Hall, she ran straight into Draco, who was rounding the corner of the door to exit. Her face flushed a brilliant red for a reason she didn't know at that moment, and she froze, staring up in his eyes.

            "I was just looking for you. Dumbledore says he wants to meet us in his office."

            "What for?"

            "I don't know," Draco sighed, "just come on." She followed him up to the second floor, and they stood in front of the gargoyle statue.

            "Sugar Quills," Draco spoke and the statue jumped aside, letting them onto the moving stairs. In Dumbledore's office they found Professors Snape and McGonagall standing on either side of Dumbledore. Two goblets of steaming potion sat on the desk and two Time-Turners lay in front of the goblets. _Not another one of these kinds of assignments...especially not with Draco, I hope. _

            "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, we have a mission for you." _A mission...makes us sound like agents or something._

            "Which is?" Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest.

            "We have received news of a sacred sword that Voldemort is trying to take a hold of. This sword has the power to kill fifty wizards or witches with one stroke, if held in the hands of a Dark wizard or it will heal fifty witches and wizards with one stroke, if held in the hands of a wizard on the Light side. There is reason to believe that this sword was destroyed after Rowena died, which was after she defeated the Dark wizard of her time. Your jobs are to go back in time one thousand, two hundred years - just after Hogwarts was founded - and get the sword before it is destroyed. You must bring it back, as Voldemort is attempting to go back in time as well to get it." Dumbledore explained. "This potion will allow you to go back that far without having to turn the Time-Turners how many hours there are in a thousand, two hundred years." Hermione bit down on her lower lip, glancing at Draco. He kept staring at the professors.

            "You mean...I - we - have to go back in time to get a sword? Why not just make one that has that same power?" He drawled.

            "Because you cannot make a sword that has that same power," McGonagall explained. "Rowena had certain powers none of the other Founders had, and one of them was to forge a sword - or any weapon, for that matter - with that sort of power. Another was to put strength into one who was mortally wounded, to heal their wound enough so that they could live."

            "_Recipero fortitudo," Hermione muttered. All three Professors' eyes turned to her._

            "How did you know that?" _That's right, we haven't studied anything about that yet...how _did_ I know it?_

            "I...I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I guess I just read it somewhere...I'm not sure." Draco even looked surprised.

            "You two would be excused from all classes for the next week, if it does take you that long to retrieve the sword." Snape said.

            "That is, if you two can work together." McGonagall added. "We just felt that you two were the best for the mission since you are Head Boy and Girl - our top students."

            "If you won't call me Mudblood," Hermione muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "then I won't have a problem with you."

            "Fine," he murmured back.

            "Okay." Hermione said. "We'll do it."

FIN (for now at least)

A/N: Okay, so Rowena's sword is based on the Tetsusaiga, from _Inuyasha_, Inuyasha's sword. Well, the part about it killing fifty witches or wizards with one stroke. The other part is based on Sesshomaru's sword, the Tenseiga, if I'm not mistaken. And yes, the going-back-in-time part is based on my story _Time-Turners Gone Wrong...only they don't go wrong. Next chapter: the two actually go back in time and Hermione discovers something about her past life. Plot is loosely woven around the Kagome-Kikyo plotline...Inuyasha fans, you'll be able (hopefully) to kind of recognize a bit of a resemblance._


	2. Recipero fortitudo

Fate of Awakening Love

Chapter Two – _Recipero fortitudo_

            "All right, then, both of you take a Time-Turner and put it around your necks," said Professor Dumbledore. _This feels strangely like déja vu_, Hermione thought. "And get your goblet. Now, you'll take a drink of your potion and turn the Time-Turner twelve times." They did as instructed, both grimacing at the awful, bile-tasting potion, and turned the tiny hourglasses twelve times. The office spun around them in a whirl of colors and as they slipped further back in time, Hermione was beginning to feel sick. _I don't remember this, she thought, __but then again I never traveled back one thousand and two hundred years._

            "Draco?" she yelled.

            "What?" he called over the rush of wind.

            "Are you—" she only got that far as they hit the ground, each on their backs on the cool grass of the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione moaned as she tried to sit up on her elbows. Her hair, which had been to the middle of her back, was now as long as her knees she discovered when she stood up, and whereas it had been frizzy and brown and curly, now it was sleek, jet-black and straight. She was wearing a sapphire-blue dress that was extremely low-cut in the front and had sleeves that reached the ground. There were fine traceries of stars up the side of the dress in silver thread. Hermione also wore a golden twisted circlet on top of her head, going across her forehead, a sapphire resting on the middle of her brow. The sky was darkening to an ink-black color and stars were scattered across, while a waning crescent hung high.

            "Draco, get up," she said, looking down at him. His eyes were tightly shut, but he opened them and did indeed stand up, groaning in pain as he did so. He now had light brown hair that was tied at the nape of his neck, and wore a green tunic over white breeches and a white shirt, and had on brown boots. He had a leather belt-sort of contraption that buckled in the front and went up across his left shoulder, and held a sword sheath on the back. There was a leather vambrace on both his forearms, each embossed with the Hogwarts motto: _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. _

            "Don't think just because I'm not calling you Mudblood anymore doesn't mean you can boss me around." He glared at her with brown eyes that didn't seem to suit him. _Maybe it's just because I'm used to his silver eyes… **Don't start thinking about his eyes now.**_ She sighed and started heading up to the castle. Draco reluctantly followed her.

            "We've got to find out who we are."

            "Where do you suppose we'll find that out?"

            "A student." She opened the large double doors, and headed into the Great Hall. It was empty.

            "It's got to be near midnight," Draco said, "judging by how dark the sky was and how high the moon was."

            "And since when did you become an expert on the night sky?"

            "Astronomy lessons," he fixed her with a piercing gaze, "aren't you?"

            "That's why it shocked me. I didn't think you paid attention during those lessons. You always look like you're half-asleep."

            "Whatever, Granger." Hermione didn't complain—she was just glad he wasn't calling her a Mudblood now. 

            "Come on, let's go to the infirmary."

            "Why?"

            "Because I feel like there's someone there that can help us find out who we are...call it a sixth sense." Draco rolled his eyes as Hermione grabbed his wrist and pulled him along behind her. When they entered the infirmary, the stench of blood was so overpowering that suddenly everything went black as Hermione fainted, crumpling to her knees, in Draco's arms.

            When she came to, she was lying on her back in a large four-poster (much larger than the ones in the girls' dorms, she noted) with blue silk curtains pulled back, six or seven pillows around her, not including the one her head rested on. Her circlet had been taken off and a cool cloth replaced it. She was also just in a bodice and underskirts. Whereas her hair before had been sleek, it was now frizzy and limp around her face, but still black and straight. She looked around the room. It was decorated with the same blue silk curtains covering the windows. Furniture included a bureau, a full-length mirror in a corner of the room, a small table that held jewelry, and the bedside table. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, warming the room. Draco was standing at one of the windows, the sword sheath absent from him, and looked over at Hermione. A female house-elf rushed in with a silver basin that looked way too heavy for that small of a creature to be carrying.

            "You're up, Madam Ravenclaw," she said, her large green eyes full of relief.

            "Did you say Ravenclaw?"

            "Yes, Madam,"

            "Then my first name is Rowena?" Draco gave her a look that clearly said, "Shut up, she's going to think you've gone mad," or something quite similar. She just ignored him.

            "Yes, Madam," the house-elf repeated and set the basin on the bedside table. She took the cloth from Hermione's forehead and dipped it in the water, then wrung it out and placed it back on Hermione. It was cool and damp now. "Did you need anything else?"

            "Tea would be nice."

            "Right away." The elf bowed and walked out of the room, leaving Draco and Hermione alone. _Alone...that doesn't sound like such a bad idea_, Hermione couldn't help thinking.

            "Who are you, then?" Hermione took off the cloth and sat up fast. Immediately she felt dizzy. Draco pushed her back down by her shoulder.

            "Just rest for a while," he said softly, for once sounding nice. _Remember what happened last time, Hermione. "And put this back on your head. Just until the elf comes back." Hermione sighed and did as she was told, as much as she didn't like it."_

            "Who are you?" she asked again.

            "Some person named Farieni." He shrugged. Hermione searched her memory—she'd read something about Farieni once before, and knew he had to do something with Rowena...her brother, or friend, or...

            "Husband!"

            "Excuse me?"

            "Farieni was Rowena's husband! Only she didn't change her name because of the founding of Hogwarts, and..." she trailed off as the reality of their situation sunk in. Draco must've realized it too, because his mouth fell open.

            "You mean I have to pretend to be your husband?" he sounded shocked, but not disgusted, as Hermione thought he would've been.

            "I guess so." Hermione shrugged. "Rowena and Farieni's children were students, and Rowena became the Transfiguration professor since that was what she was best at."

            "Children?" he looked slightly pale. "We have children?"

            "Not _us. Rowena and Farieni." Just then the elf rushed in with a silver tray of tea and two cups, along with containers of sugar and cream, and set it on the remaining space of the bedside table._

            "Anything else?"

            "No, thank you." Draco said. The elf bowed once more and left. Hermione took off the cloth and Draco fixed the pillows so she could sit up, back against them. The dizziness after sitting up only lasted a few seconds and she gratefully took the cup of tea Draco gave her.

            "Are you feeling okay?" he asked after a few minutes' silence, sounding genuinely concerned. Hermione, not used to him being kind, looked at him suspiciously.

            "What?" he asked.

            "You just...how do I put this? You're being nice for once, is what I'm saying." He raised his eyebrows at her.

            "Do I really have a choice? I've got to be your husband." He looked away, though, and there was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. Hermione frowned. _That's not the real reason he's being nice, she thought. _I wonder if...no, that couldn't be possible...could it? Could he fancy me like...no, I don't fancy him. That's preposterous...he just has nice eyes...and a nice smile...and a _very__ nice body.... Oh, all right, I fancy him. But could it be more than just that?_

            "Hermione, I'd really appreciate it if you would quit staring," he said coldly—or should Hermione say, normally.

            "Sorry," she took a sip of her tea and traced the pattern of the comforter with her eyes. _He said my first name...he didn't call me Granger!_ Her eyes widened as she realized this, but she wouldn't say anything, or even look over at him.

            "So...are you okay?"

            "I'm fine. Where do you suppose the sword is?"

            "Well—"

            The door swung open and an older woman walked in, a floating stretcher behind her. On it lay a man who looked asleep but from the way he was breathing abnormally slow, Hermione knew was unconscious.

            "Rowena..." the woman Hermione assumed to be the nurse said, "this knight has been fatally wounded. We need for you to strengthen him. He is the greatest archer we have and our enemies are closing in fast on us." Hermione froze. She knew of _Recipero fortitudo of course, but didn't know how to do it. She scooted over to the edge of the bed, where the stretcher floated and, if by instinct, put both her hands over the wound in the man's chest, and closed her eyes, concentrating with all her will on the man._

            "_Recipero fortitudo," she whispered, and felt something pass from her hands to the man, whose breathing sped up to normal rate, heart beating regularly. Hermione opened her eyes. The nurse smiled._

            "Thank you, Rowena." She left the room with the stretcher floating after her and Hermione looked at Draco to see his mouth was hanging open.

            "How did you—"

            "I don't know. I just did it." She looked at the palms of her hands, swallowing hard. "It was like it was second nature to me. And it's not just because I'm Rowena in body either. It's like how I knew the spell in Dumbledore's office."

            "Are you saying—"

            "I think I'm the reincarnated soul of Rowena Ravenclaw."

***


	3. Of Singing and Snogging

Fate of Awakening Love  
Chapter 3 - Of Singing and Snogging  
  
I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose  
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose  
Once there was a darkness, a deep and endless night  
You gave me everything you had, oh, you gave me light.  
~Sarah McLachlan  
  
It was well past midnight, judging by the position of the moon outside, but Hermione was still awake, as Draco slumbered in the four- poster. She'd gotten up and sat in the chair by the window to stare out over the grounds that were a thousand years younger than when she would normally stare out at them if she couldn't sleep. Even if she'd wanted to sleep, she wouldn't sleep in the same bed as Draco. Not only did she not trust him (he was in Slytherin, for Merlin's sake!--not to mention a Malfoy) but she wasn't about to sleep in the same bed as hers, Harry's and Ron's sworn enemy when she'd only been on decent speaking terms with him for a day.  
Thunder rolled lazily across the sky from a distance, and as Hermione peered further out the window, she could see the approaching clouds heading from the mountains. She sighed heavily and sat back in the chair, crossing her arms over Rowena's chest, crossing her legs at the knee, glancing over at Draco's sleeping form--or, rather Farieni's. He was frowning--no surprise there--subconsciously, Farieni's brown hair falling over his face, the pale moonlight illuminating it. Hermione's expression deepened as she stared at Draco--It's Farieni, not Draco--wondering if Farieni was like him at all, or if Rowena's mannerisms and such were like hers. If she really was the reincarnated soul of Rowena, she would have to share some traits, right?  
But what if you're wrong, and you're not the reincarnation of Rowena?  
I'm never wrong, bragged a second voice in the back of Hermione's head, that made her squirm in the chair.  
Oh, you've been wrong before.  
"Shut up!" she hissed, mortified, (though she had no reason to be) and got up, grabbing a large dressing gown off the back of a chair and charging out of the room before she went and did something rash--she didn't know what, but she was bound to go crazy if she was stuck in the room with Draco Malfoy any longer--no matter whose body he was occupying. For some odd reason, she couldn't get the way he'd sounded after she'd more or less told him they were forced to be husband and wife for however long it took to go back in time to retrieve the sword.  
"You mean I have to pretend to be your husband?"  
Hermione suddenly grinned and started laughing. She didn't know exactly why, but knew part of it was because she could do what she wanted to Draco during this time...and she would have an excuse. She could just picture the look on his face (oddly not Farieni's face either) if she just-- no, she could never do that to anyone. Besides, that seemed like the sort of thing Lavender and Parvati would do. She wouldn't pretend to be a rich, simpering wife drooling over him all the time--Rowena Ravenclaw wasn't that type of woman and neither was she.  
Taking her seat on one of the rocks by the lake, she hummed the beginning of a song and softly started singing.  
What ravages of spirit?  
Conjure this temptuous rage  
Created you a monster  
Broken by the rule of love  
And fate has led you through it  
You do what you have to do  
Oh, and fate has led you through it  
You do what you have to do  
She was singing, so she couldn't hear the light footsteps on the grass behind her or the rustling of the bushes by the lake.  
I have the sense to recognize  
That I don't know how to let you go  
And she continued singing, growing louder in the appropriate spots but staying true to her quiet singing voice, which she had never let anyone hear--she wanted something that was hers, and only hers, something that no one else could take away.  
Glowing ember burning hot, burning slow  
Deep within I'm shaking by the violence  
Of existing for only you  
I know I can't be with you, I do what I have to do--  
She paused as Draco sat down next to her on the rock, and immediately stopped singing.  
"What's that?" he asked quietly, and she shrugged, picked up a pebble and turned it over and over in Rowena's fingers.  
"Just a song."  
"It's not just a song. Otherwise you wouldn't be singing it. It's got to have a name."  
"Well, since you're being difficult," Hermione sighed, "it's by Sarah McLachlan, and it's called 'Do What You Have to Do.' But I don't know why you care so much."  
"Because you have a pretty voice," said Draco, "and it's not Rowena's. It's yours."  
"You don't know that--"  
"Face it, Hermione, we both know we sound like ourselves still, whether or not the people here have realized it or not." There was another quiver in the bushes by the lake, and both Hermione and Draco looked at them, and a squirrell came bounding out of the leaves, shooting across the grounds and disappearing into the dark night. More thunder rumbled and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone had heard their conversation they would probably have their heads.  
Literally.  
Suddenly Hermione felt two fingers brush against her cheek and tuck a lock of hair that had come loose from the messy braid she'd plaited down her back behind her ear, and she turned to look at Draco/Farieni. He was staring at her with a very odd look in Farieni's chocolate eyes. Not love-- Merlin, no, nothing like that--but perhaps...respect. Yes, that seemed like it. Like he finally understood....  
Hermione stood up suddenly, and started back to the castle.  
"I get the bed this time," she called over her shoulder.  
  
..::*::..  
  
"Of course Aspasia was a witch. They didn't have too many educated women in ancient Greece--even in the Golden Age of Athens--but if a woman was that smart, chances are that she was a witch. It is known for a fact Aspasia was." Hermione looked around the classroom and smiled.  
"Any more questions? Then I assume you know your assignment, on pages two forty-seven, and two forty-eight, questions twenty-three to thirty- eight. Good day." The bell (then on the highest tower, which the caretaker rung at the end of class) sounded and as the students filed out of the room, Draco struggled into the room and sat on top of the front row of desks (it was their lunch break).  
"How are you doing in terms of teaching things they have no idea will happen in the next millenia? Or rather, not teaching those things?"  
"It's really weird, I have to catch myself when I'm about to say something about McGonagall--or, about Voldemort." She sighed. "Lucky you don't have any classes."  
"Yeah, well, you think walking around in these things are exactly comfortable?" he tugged at the white breeches he wore beneath his tunic.  
"Well, welcome to the Middle Ages. Speaking of, I really despise chamber pots." He laughed then--a nice, deep laugh that Hermione would never have heard if they were still at Hogwarts--a laugh she would keep in her memory forever. She wondered if anyone had ever heard him laugh before.  
"Have you found out anymore about the sword?" Draco burst out.  
"HUSH! Keep your voice down! Just because we're Rowena and Farieni doesn't mean--"  
"But I thought you were her reincarnation. Shouldn't this spark something in you that makes you remember?"  
"Sure," she said unenthusiastically, crossing the room to the window, folding her arms over her chest. Draco hopped off the desk and walked over to her.  
"I thought you were certain you were."  
"Look," she whirled around to face him, "I didn't say I was sure--I thought and thought about it last night and I finally decided that I must've read something about her somewhere--I mean, even I can be wrong sometimes, as much as I despise to admit it." Draco sighed and raked a hand through Farieni's hair, which was down today.  
"God, Hermione, I wish you'd have told me sooner."  
"Yeah, well, the whole world doesn't revolve around you."  
"Oh, you could've fooled me." Draco shot. Hermione made a sort of growling noise and pushed past him, rapidly gathering up stray sheafs of parchment, trying her best to ignore Draco, who was smirking at her from the corner--which didn't suit Farieni's face very well. Hermione found herself studying Farieni, chewing on her lower lip, not quite aware he was staring at her too. There was a deep look to his brown eyes, like he had a story to tell--one that had been woven through many years of hardships and obstacles, of great joys and great sorrows. Deep creases lined the sides of his mouth, though he was still young, reminding her of Remus Lupin.  
She didn't realize Draco'd walked over to her until he was against her, his arm around her waist. She could feel his warm breath on her face, and she couldn't meet his eyes--not now, not while she couldn't think clearly--so she just settled on staring at his lips--and staring until she couldn't see them anymore because they'd covered hers, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered--she didn't care that she'd just dropped the stack of separate sheets of parchment and they were now scattered all over the floor. She didn't care about the student that came back for an extra lesson and was now looking very uncomfortable in the doorway. She didn't care that this was supposedly forbidden--she, Harry Potter's best friend and a Muggle-born Gryffindor was kissing a notorious Slytherin whose father was currently a Death Eater and currently getting away with it.  
Then, as if a heavy fog parted, her mind cleared and she did care about all of those things. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin her friendship with Harry and Ron (even as dense as Ron was most of the time) and especially by snogging Draco Malfoy. She pushed him away, tears shining hotly in her eyes, though she told herself that it wasn't like they were back in the present, where everybody knew their true selves and they weren't hiding behind their disguises, that no one would suspect anything, but...it still felt wrong. She got a sick feeling in her stomach, and quickly dropped to her knees on the floor to hide her emotions from Draco as she gathered up the papers while her mind flew with questions.  
If I hated it so much, why did it feel so right? I was just lost in the moment, I think Farieni's cute, not Draco...not the way he's treated me for the past six years. But why would he have come onto me like that? Maybe he wasn't thinking...I mean, maybe he was just wanting to kiss Rowena and not me. Let's just hope that was the case.... But what if I don't want it to be the case?  
"Professor?" she heard a timid voice behind her and stood, turning around to face a first year she had, whose name she didn't know. Hell, she hadn't even known a student was coming back during the lunch break.  
"Yes, erm, yes?" she asked, clearing her throat and trying not to sniffle too much (she'd successfully blinked back her tears) because Draco was still standing behind her.  
"I...am here for the lessons, but, er, if this is an unconvenient time, I can come back--"  
"No, of course not, you're fine." Hermione swallowed. "J-just take a seat in the front row and I will come to help you in a little while. I just have to get this--er--rearranged." She turned and bumped into Draco, who was holding all of the papers in a neat pile in his hands.  
"Oh, uh, thanks." she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. His hand beneath her chin lifted her face so she was staring up at him.  
"Meet me by the lake at twelve." With that, he left, shoving the papers in her hand. She turned towards the student, feeling stunned.  
"Uhm--let's get started, shall we?" she smiled.  
*** A/N: If it's total crap, I'm sorry, but I was up until 2:00 this morning and started this in Biology class the other day, so forgive me, I was bored all the time when writing it. There'll be more action (both D/Hr and physical, fighting action) in later chappies. Please read and review. Thanks! ~Eowyn 


	4. Of Archery and Dancing

Fate of Awakening Love  
Chapter 4 - Archery and Dancing  
  
"Such surrender has been mine. To melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves. To know that always,  
always this is mine."  
The next day dawned cold, and Hermione groaned as a rooster crowed outside. She turned over in the bed, pulled the covers to her chin and felt warm breath on her face. Her eyes flew open and she froze.  
Draco was lying beside her.  
And he was asleep.  
She shifted slightly so she could sit up with the covers still pulled up, and fixed her eyes on him. A part of her was furious with him...and yet a part was a bit flattered. He couldn't hate her too much, if he wanted to sleep in the same bed as her...but then again, that wasn't particularly true. He could've just gotten tired of sleeping in the chair.  
So why didn't he wake her up and tell her to move?  
"Are you going to stare all morning or do I have to ask you to stop?" Draco's sleepy voice startled Hermione out of her reverie. She hadn't even noticed his eyes opening.  
"Oh, um, sorry," she said, "I--I didn't mean to stare, I was just--"  
"Don't sweat it, Granger," he said, sitting up, running a hand through Farieni's tangled hair. "Don't they know how to use combs?" he said irritably. She sighed, still watching him try and work a single tangle out of his hair, his brow furrowed and he biting his lip.  
"Why'd you sleep in the bed?" she blurted out. He looked up at her, narrowed his eyes as he noted her flushed red cheeks and her unusually bright eyes.  
"Well, 'our' house-elf came in here and asked what was I doing sitting in the chair and not sleeping in the same bed as my wife, and I just said I was thinking about stuff and I would, that she needn't worry about it. So I figured just in case she came back in here--"  
"Rowena...I do hate to disturb you during this...whatever you would like to call it...but I need to speak with you," said a sneering woman from the doorway, with limp greasy blonde hair around her shoulders and cold blue eyes. Her name was Professor Desdemona Malise, and Hermione was strongly reminded of Professor Snape whenever she was around the older woman. She's probably his ancestor, she's so foul.  
"Aye, Desdemona, if you'll give me a second--"  
"Of course, Rowena," said the woman, closing the door. Hermione groaned and threw back the covers, going over to the wardrobe.  
"Dreadful wench," Hermione grumbled as she threw on a simple brown wool dress over a blue long-sleeved shirt. She pointed her wand at her hair and muttered a few words angrily, and it plaited itself into a long braid down her back. She shut the door behind her as she left out and followed Malise down the hall to just around the corner.  
"You may think you're fooling your students, but you're not fooling me," the woman hissed, her face close to Hermione's (Rowena's), her breath just as foul as her attitude.  
"I--I don't know what you're talking about, Desdemona," Hermione stammered, determined to keep a straight face, her eyes narrowed.  
"Aye, I'm afraid you do, lassie. You're not Rowena. You're an imposter. You can be sure the headmaster hears of this." She turned and started walking down the hall, away from Hermione, who stood stunned for a second before a realization came to her.  
"There's just one problem with your plan," Hermione said loudly, and Malise turned around, the sneer fixed on her face again.  
"And what would that be?"  
"You can't prove it."  
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that." With a final smirk, the woman disappeared up a flight of stairs. Hermione slumped against the wall, feeling defeated and sick. With a hand to her stomach, she bolted down the hall back to hers and Draco's room, pulled the chamber pot from behind the curtain, and retched in it. Draco got up from the bed and came around the screen, crouching by her as she sat back against the wall, sweat slowly sliding down her face, which was pale, her hands shaking and clammy.  
"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked in a genuinely concerned tone. She stared up in his eyes, those same eyes she stared up in yesterday before he kissed her, and another wave of nausea passed over her.  
"She knows," she said in a ragged voice. "She knows we're not Rowena and Farieni."  
"How?" Draco's voice had lowered to a whisper, his hand on her cheek, slowly smoothing back bits of hair from her face that had come loose from the braid.  
"I don't know," said Hermione, shaking her head. "She just said the headmaster would be informed...she called us imposters..."  
"Well, she can't corroborate it."  
"That's what I said, but she said she wouldn't be so sure of it." Tears slowly fought their way down Hermione's cheeks, and she sniffled and Draco wiped them with his thumb. Hermione could hardly believe the way he was acting. What was worse...  
She was afraid she was falling in love with him.  
Hermione sniffled a second time just as the door opened. A young wizard of about twelve or thirteen came in the room, caught sight of Draco crouching in front of Hermione, and walked over slowly.  
"Mum? Dad? What's going on?" Both Hermione and Draco looked up at the boy, who bore a strong resemblance to Rowena, of course with masculine instead of feminine features. He had the eyes of Farieni, however, that deep brown color that went on forever it seemed.  
"H--er, um, your mother just got sick. What's going on?"  
"They need Mum to go to the battlefield...they can't transport the man here, they're afraid his neck will snap," Hermione struggled to her feet while Rowena and Farieni's son told them of the dilemma. She took him by the shoulders and stared down in his eyes.  
"Do you know the way to the battlefield?"  
"It's by the cemetery in Hogsmeade...at the end of the High Street. Mum, I thought you knew--"  
"Get my bow, right over there." Hermione instructed while she quickly twisted Rowena's hair in a knot at the base of her neck, using magic to keep it there as she took the bow and quiver of arrows Rowena's son handed her, slinging them both across her back. Draco followed her out of their room, down two flights of stairs to the entrance hall that led outside, where a horse was waiting with a wizard clothed in blue silk robes.  
"How did you know it was yours?" Draco whispered as Hermione mounted the horse.  
"Easy," she replied, "it had her name in runes." She leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before gathering the reins and galloping off on the horse towards the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione was surprised to see the village was much the same in 798 A.D. as it was more than a millenia in the future. Almost all of the shops were closed, however, and Hermione dismounted the horse with a light leaping movement, pulled her bow from her back and walked up the High Street, prepared for any attack. She heard whimpering as she neared Dervish and Banges, and her ears perked up as she whirled around. A hooded, cloaked and masked figure was walking slowly towards her, a wand clutched in his long-fingered hand. Hermione swallowed, calmly reached behind her back for an arrow, fitting it tightly against the bowstring and raised the bow, the string pressing into her fingertips that held the arrow, pulling back the string just past her ear.  
"Leave this village, or you will die." She said, astonished at how steady her voice sounded. The man laughed, and she thought she'd heard that laugh before...perhaps it was the laugh of all Death Eaters...if they even had Death Eaters back in the Dark Ages.  
"You've no skill with a bow and arrow, you are not--"  
"I have more skill than you think," she said, inside thinking, What have you gotten yourself into, Hermione? If he doesn't kill you, it will be a miracle...you've never even picked up a bow and arrow in your life! Shut UP, I don't need to hear this now...  
"You are not Rowena," the man said, drawing ever closer. Hermione's breath hitched and she pulled back the string even more, so far she was afraid it would snap at any minute.  
"I have heard from Malise you are just a foolish young girl--" Hermione took aim, and let the arrow fly, and the man let out a loud, awful cry of pain. The arrow had not hit his heart, or his neck, but rather his left--his wand--hand.  
"Run!" she shouted to the woman who had whimpered, who was slouched against an outside wall of a shop, her hands on her cheeks as she watched the scene before her eyes. The arrow glowed with a strange whitish-gold light, but the man ripped it from his hand and threw it on the ground, blood flowing freely from the wound, dripping on the ground, his wand on the cobblestone walkway as well as the arrow he'd torn from his hand. The woman started to race back towards the castle, but the man whirled around and threw out a greenish-black ball from his hand. Hermione whipped out another arrow from the quiver on her back and strung the bow, but she wasn't fast enough. The ball hit the woman in the back, and she fell to the ground. Hermione couldn't tell whether she was dead or not.  
"If you're really Rowena," the man sneered, "where is the sword?"  
"Like I'm going to tell someone who's of the likes of you?" she spat. "I don't think so."  
"Just as I thought," she could hear the sneer in his voice.  
"Even if I wasn't Rowena," said Hermione, trying to choose her words carefully, "I would never lower myself to your level by revealing the location of the sword to you." She raised the bow again, only it was to his heart this time.  
"But surely you would not lower yourself to be a murderer, now would you? How could I forget, that's better than being a liar." He twirled his wand (which he'd gotten back with the Summoning Charm) in his right hand fingers.  
"Rowena!" a voice called and the man Disapparated before her, leaving behind only his blood on the ground, and Hermione lowered the bow, turning to the voice that had called Rowena's name. It was a young woman, who had straight red hair that fell to the middle of her back and whose face was covered in freckles. Hermione was strongly reminded of Ginny Weasley.  
"He's over here!" the woman called. Hermione quickly put the second arrow in the quiver, slung her bow once again across her back and headed toward the woman. The sound of a galloping horse met her ears as she and the redhaired woman walked along the edge of the battlefield, where the Death Eater-like creatures were Disapparating left and right, and abruptly stopped, the sound of feet landing lightly on the ground, walking up the grass...Hermione turned around just as he approached her, and let out a sigh of relief.  
"Don't do that," she whispered as Draco started walking along beside her, both of them a couple of feet behind the redhaired woman so she wouldn't hear what they were saying, even though she probably would think nothing of it.  
"Sorry, I...I wanted to follow you. Make sure you stayed all right. Was that your blood on the ground in the village?"  
"Oh, gods, no," Hermione said. "A Death Eater. Or, rather, he was like one," she eyed him warily, but he just continued staring at the ground as they walked.  
"We've arri--Master Farieni, w-when did you get here?" the woman blushed furiously as she turned around and her eyes fell on Hermione's "husband", and Hermione couldn't help coughing to cover up her giggle. The woman was too much like Ginny...  
"Just now," said Draco. "I decided I should, erm, accompany Rowena."  
"I've heard that you always are there when she helps one of the men." The woman said with admiration shining in her eyes. "A-are you two going to the ball?"  
"What ball?" Draco asked while Hermione made her way over to the man, who lay on his back, blood flowing freely from a wound on his forehead, caused most likely by a curse. His skin was pale, his armor bloody and dented in certain spots from weapons. His eyelids fluttered open, and when Hermione put her hands on his heart, she could feel heat radiating steadily off of him.  
"The one Headmaster Clarke said was tonight...you mean you didn't know?"  
"Oh, um, of course I knew," Draco stammered, "I just...forgot."  
"He's got a terrible fever," Hermione interrupted, feeling a bit peeved at the girl, "perhaps he shouldn't fight anymore." She looked up at the younger girl.  
"Well, I--I don't know, Madam, they just told me to meet you and lead you to him."  
"Well, tell 'them', whoever that is, that I said he is not to fight anymore until this fever goes away. I am going to transport him to the infirmary in the castle. If they have any problems, tell them to speak with me. I'll handle it." Hermione borrowed the girl's wand and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa" after conjuring a cot beneath the man, and stood, the makeshift stretcher floating behind her as she walked to the horse Draco'd already mounted. He held out his hand and she used it to pull herself up in front of him, the stretcher now levitating beside the horse.  
"Farewell," the girl called after Hermione and Draco set off.  
Hermione tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that Draco's chest was against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder, but it was kind of hard as they trotted along to not notice...especially when his hand found its way around her waist to rest on her stomach. Hermione turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were closed, a slight smile tugging at his lips. She could've killed him, yet...she liked sitting like this with him so close against her. She would make sure they would go to the ball tonight.  
  
...:::*:::...  
"I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lover's lips. His hands  
upon, his arms enfolding me."  
Hermione stepped out from behind the screen and Draco's eyes widened as she slipped on a red shoe. She wore a matching red satin "outer dress", which was more like a slip-over dress that had open spots in the long bell sleeves, which exposed the white satin beneath, and gold trim lined the edges of the outer dress, which was stitched together from the waist down. The bodice she wore beneath, or the "under dress", was striped three or four inches apart (of what showed, which was just the torso part of it), with pearls in a line between every line of gold. The circlet Hermione wore was a ruby this time, and tiny sections of her hair on the sides had been braided around like a crown, and the rest of her hair had been plaited down her back, tied with a red silk ribbon at the end. Pearl teardrop earrings hung from Rowena's ears. She looked over at Draco and he smiled.  
"You look very nice," he said.  
"You mean Rowena looks very nice," she said, bending and pulling the other shoe out from beneath the bed. "I just picked out what she was going to wear."  
"No, I mean you look very nice." She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but the end-of-dinner bell rang, which meant it was time to head down to the hall. Hermione took Draco's arm and they walked out of the room together, Hermione smiling at his comment.  
While Hermione and Draco revolved once the ball started and a slow song started playing, she started to notice everything about him being so close to her--the way his fingers were laced with hers, his hand against the small of her back, the way she could feel the heat of him through her dress (or was that her?), his cheek resting against her temple. He drew her against him so she could now feel his heart beating against her chest, his every breath making the tiny gem on her forehead move a bit, her heart jumping around crazily in her chest. She wondered how he would react if she...no, she would never...Oh, hell, you only live once, Granger, might as well make it interesting. Well, technically two, but-- YOU shut up.  
Hermione then made the most influential decision she'd ever had to make, and if it was the wrong one, it didn't matter because she couldn't stand it any longer. She had to know what it was like to kiss him--to really kiss him, not with her mind elsewhere like it had been that day in the classroom. She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes and pressed Rowena's lips against Farieni's, memorizing the feel of them (though they weren't Draco's personally), the taste of them as her arms twined up around his neck, her fingers running through Farieni's. She was falling, slowly but surely, more and more in love with Draco as she kissed him with all of her heart, and she didn't care to ever come back up again. She would've been content just to stay in the Middle Ages forever, as Rowena and Farieni, but she knew deep in her heart it wouldn't be possible-- even if they stayed, McGonagall would surely come back for them.  
And even as Hermione realized this light tears coursed down her cheeks at this fact that she couldn't change, no matter how much she wanted to.  
When Draco realized she was crying, he pulled back only just so their foreheads were touching and lifted a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the smooth skin, feeling her heart beat against his, hearing her every breath and placing it in a special place in his memory where he would never forget.  
"What's wrong?" he whispered, knowing full well what was wrong.  
"I...I'm in love with you."  
  
A/N: The two quotes (at the beginning of the chapter and at the beginning of the second part of the chapter) are both from Dangerous Beauty, one of my favorite movies, starring Catherine McCormack as the courtesan Veronica Franco in a true story. J'aime cliffhangers! J'aime reviews! (Hint hint...) Also, I was looking at a site and I saw that Rowena means fair-haired... I know, it's too late to change it now, but I just thought I would share.... Don't forget to review! Je t'aime, mes beaux critiques! Beaucoup d'amore, ~Eowyn, lady of Rohan 


	5. Fate of Awakening Love Chapter Five Dav...

Fate of Awakening Love  
Chapter Five - David Wenham is shexy.  
by: Éowyn, Lady of Rohan  
  
Confusion never stops  
Closing walls and ticking clocks  
Gonna come back and take you home  
I could not stop that you now know  
-Coldplay, "Clocks"  
  
Hermione's eyes widened and she clasped a hand over her mouth.  
"I really...really didn't mean to say that. I think I just...I don't know..." She looked like she was about to cry even more or worse, faint, and Draco didn't know if he could handle that. He took her hand and led her out of the Great Hall. Her hands were trembling and she felt as if she were going to be sick all over herself, which, as we all know, isn't that good of a feeling. Kind of like the sort of feeling she was having when they were traveling back to...  
Hermione's knees didn't support her any longer, and she collapsed to the ground, falling on her aforementioned knees, her hands supported her from falling face-forward on the cold stone. Draco was leaning against a wall, obviously feeling like Hermione did, his hand clutched to his chest, he breathing hard. Fortunately no one was coming to or from the Great Hall. Suddenly everything went black, and Hermione saw no more.  
  
...:::*:::...  
  
"Hermione...wake up, Hermione. You've got to see yourself, and me." Draco's voice was far...so far away, yet surrounding her, she was slowly surfacing...coming to the top...getting breaths of air.  
She shot up into a sitting position and found she'd fainted after all on the floor. Her eyes wide, she looked up to find not Farieni, but Draco there, his gray-blue eyes staring back at her. She swallowed, lifting a hand to her head. Her hair was still in the design, but frizzier and wavy, and further inspection revealed it was back to its mahogany color and original length. She shakily got to her feet. Since was as tall as Rowena and had the same curvaceous figure, the dress fit her perfectly. She looked at Draco.  
Of course he was still wearing Farieni's outfit, which fit him perfectly as well. However, his hair was silver-blonde again...strangely it was still the length of Farieni's hair. Hermione groaned and made her way over to a stone bench, sitting and putting her face in her hands.  
"This is just perfect," she said in her palms, "we get transferred back to the Middle Ages, live a few days in two peoples' shoes and then turn somehow back to ourselves, yet we're still here. How messed up is that." She lifted her hands and looked up at Draco, who was frowning at her.  
"Don't just look at me. What's your say in this matter?" He raked a hand through his hair.  
"I don't know, Hermione. I just don't know. We can't very well go on teaching, or groundkeeping, or whatever. That woman must've known something...Malice or something?"  
"Malise," Hermione corrected, feeling quite miserable. "You're right. But if Rowena hid the sword somewhere in hers and Farieni's chamber..."  
"Well, don't just stop there. What?"  
"We'll have to stay in the room the whole time, right? So that'll give us more time to look for it. I could keep teaching, I could say Rowena had to tend to something...?" Draco bit down on his lower lip, his arms folded across his chest. He doesn't look half bad in that tunic, either...NO. This is NOT the time, Hermione. Draco sighed.  
"All right, fine, but if you're sure. How precious, McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape forgot to mention this little bit, not to mention the matter of how do we get back once we have the sword!" He kicked the wall forcefully. Hermione just ignored him. By this time she'd gotten up and was pacing, her hands planted on her hips, the wheels of her mind spinning.  
"Do you still have your Time-Turner?" Hermione asked, looking over at him. He lifted his eyes to hers and shook his head.  
"No. I didn't have it when we got here. I remember because I reached for it, but I figured it'd gotten lost since we came back this far." He lowered his eyes to the floor again.  
"Well, come on," Hermione walked over and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the stairs, "you can't mope around all night without someone seeing. We've got to get back to the room, and start looking for that bloody stupid sword." He sighed and had no choice but to follow her up the stairs. This might well be a very long 'trip.'  
  
...:::*:::...  
  
Hermione sighed in frustration. She couldn't think of anywhere else the sword could be. Night had fallen and she'd changed into her simple white woolen nightdress, lying in bed with Draco by her side. She still hadn't a clue as to why he'd started sleeping beside her in the same bed...which was why she didn't meet him by the lake at midnight like she'd promised. She'd been afraid of what he might say, or do. She laughed softly. I really do contradict myself, she thought. She made sure Draco was still fast asleep, slipped out of bed and quietly made her way over to the area her dresses were kept. As she searched for the deep-blue one she'd arrived in, her foot wobbled and the sound of stone rubbing on stone sounded. The bed shifted, but she ignored it and lowered herself to her knees, set down the candle, and tried to grasp the stone with her fingertips. When that failed, she whispered "Wingardium Leviosa" and the stone lifted free, landing quietly. The faint glimmer of something gold caught her eyes and she reached down, lifting from the small, cool space...  
"A sword," she whispered in amazement. It was unusually light, and long...obviously two-handed, but Hermione could hold it with only one hand. The handgrip was blue, feeling slightly of leather, and had nine golden rings set into it, winding around it, which helped Hermione keep the grip of it. The pommel was large, but it helped keep the sword perfectly balanced. The sheath of the sword was wooden, but covered in blue leather, plain, with no engravings. The chape of the sheath was simple as well, a silver V-shape. Hermione was breathless as she pulled the sword out from its scabbard. The blade was an elongated leaf shape, and had engravings of dragons and eagles. The cross guard had a single sapphire set into the tip of it and was inscribed with Potens ibidem quae affero is ae id ensis.  
Hermione slowly slid the sword back in its sheath and set it down on the floor, walking over to the bed. She sat down and shook Draco's shoulder countless times to try and get him up. He rolled onto his side so he was facing Hermione, his eyelids fluttering, and his arm stretched outward, his fingers traveling around to the back of her waist, and lower. She gasped and leapt back from him, right off the bed, landing flat on her back. She gasped for breath--it hurt to even take one--and Draco started awake, his eyes flying open. He sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed.  
"What are you--I thought you were asleep," he said confusedly.  
"I was--trying--to wake you." Hermione gasped, sitting up into a less painful position. "I found it."  
"Found what? A Time-Turner?" he said somewhat excitedly. She glared up at him.  
"Unfortunately, no. The sword."  
"That'd be great," Draco said, "if there wasn't one little problem. We don't know how to get back!" Hermione stood shakily to her feet, pushing her annoying curls out of her eyes.  
"If you'd shut up for a while maybe we could find out!"  
"If you wouldn't boss me around like I'm some--" by this point both were yelling so loudly Hermione began to grow afraid the entire castle would wake to their shouting.  
"OKAY! Shush. We're going to wake some people I don't feel like dealing with if we keep this up. Especially that Malise wench." Draco fell silent, sighing, as he knew Hermione was right.  
"Right, so what do you suggest we do?"  
"I'm going to go to the library first thing in the morning," said Hermione, glancing over at the sword. Draco got up off the bed, walking over to the sword, which he lifted.  
"Jesus Christ, this thing's heavy. How is anyone supposed to hold it?"  
"It's not that heavy." She took it from his hands and unsheathed it once more, holding it in the moonlight, which glimmered off of it, nearly as bright as the afternoon sun.  
"Yeah, because Rowena probably made it so only her heir or reincarnate or whatever could hold it." Draco said, his pale silver eyes holding something Hermione couldn't read. She frowned and recognized that look. It was the look he'd given her that night in the library.  
"Er...right, you're right." She looked away, putting the sword back in the scabbard and replacing it back under the stone, carefully sliding the heavy stone back over it. "Well, I say we get to bed now that we know where the sword is." She looked at Draco again, hoping the look was gone from his eyes.  
It wasn't.  
"What?" she shakily asked, hoping he wasn't going to go and snog her again--she didn't know what it might lead to, and she didn't know what she might do, for when he kissed her or vice versa, her mind was not her own anymore.  
"Did you really...not...mean it? What you said tonight?" She sighed and raked a hand through her hair.  
"I don't know."  
"Hermione, either you love me or you don't. It's as simple as that."  
"And what would you do if I said yes? I'm not saying I do, I'm just asking what you'd do."  
"I don't know," said Draco, "I might say I loved you back."  
"But you don't, do you?"  
"No," he sighed, "I'm sorry."  
"Well you shouldn't be," she laughed then but it sounded fake, and cold, and not her. And she hated it. "For I don't love you either. I think it was just the moment."  
"Of course," said Draco, "the moment." He added distantly. "Well, er, off to bed now."  
"Yes." And as she crawled beneath the covers again, she longed for the feel of Draco's arms around her waist again, his breath warm on her face, his mouth on hers. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to erase the images from her mind. As she drifted off to sleep she thought she felt the faint ghost of his arms around her waist. When she opened her eyes, they were gone.  
They had never been there.  
To fall so deeply into you  
lose myself completely  
in your sweet embrace  
all my pain's erased  
  
From your mouth it's all that I wish  
the mercy of your lips just one kiss  
until I can breathe again  
until I can sing again.  
-Sarah McLachlan, "Train Wreck" 


	6. Chapter Six: Of Meetings and Heirs

**Fate of Awakening Love**

**Chapter 6**

**Of Meetings and Heirs******

            Hermione woke in a dream-like state, wondering if what happened the night before really had. She sat up and grabbed her hair, pulling it in front of her face. It was hers, not Rowena's, and confusion quickly fell away to anger as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She was going to take a walk - a long walk - and grabbed a dressing gown from the wardrobe and threw it on. She was infuriated - now were they not only stuck in the Middle Ages probably forever, they were stuck in _their_ bodies! Where she would go from here, she didn't know, but a thought plagued her mind. _Where are Rowena and Farieni if we're here. What if they were sent to another time when the switch back was made? How do we explain this?_ Draco caught up with her, coming from the Great Hall, and she whirled around to go back up the stairs.

            "I need to go to the library," she said, spawning an idea. Draco didn't speak, and maybe it was a good thing since she was furious. Not really paying much attention to where she was going, suddenly crashed into a person, causing her to stumble back and almost fall. A strong, long-fingered hand elegantly wrapped around her upper arm, steadying her. She stared up at Draco's face.

            "Er - thanks." She straightened and cleared her throat, opening her mouth to prepare an apology to the person she'd crashed into. Instead, she just stared open-mouthed at the woman in front of her. The woman's waist-lenght midnight-black hair glistened in the blazing braziers along the walls and her blue eyes stared back at Hermione with the same confusion laced in the azure irises.

            "Rowena?" croaked Hermione. Farieni stepped out from behind his wife, who was dressed in one of Hermione's copper-red sweaters and jeans, Farieni wearing one of Draco's black button-down shirts and black pants. Both were almost exactly Hermione and Draco's size.

            "So _you're_ Hermione," said Rowena after a moment of silence, and suddenly the older woman embraced Hermione in a large hug.

            "And you're Draco." Farieni bowed. "I am honored to make your aquiantance. I am sorry for wearing your clothes, I -"

            "Oh, er, don't worry about it, we're sorry for wearing yours too, I mean -"

            "We're even." Farieni grinned. Rowena finally released Hermione, though her hands remained on her shoulders.

            "It's great to meet you finally." Spoke Rowena. _She speaks sort of modern,_ Hermione noted, _which is definitely a bit odd._ "You, my dear, are my descendant. Something like my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter, or something of the sort."

            "Granddaughter?" Hermione whispered. _But that still doesn't explain how I knew...well it's no matter, I'm just relieved to see them._

            "Yes," laughed Rowena, "my daughter marries a Gryffindor, and their son marries a Gryffindor, and their daughter is a Ravenclaw, so on and so forth, and that's why you're in Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw while still having the brains for Ravenclaw. If it makes any sense, dear." Hermione numbly nodded, feeling stupid for not being able to do more than that.

            "Well, enough talking," said Farieni, clapping Draco on the shoulder. "I think we should inform our time-travelling friends just what happened. Come, follow us."

            Hermione soon found herself in the Room of Requirement. Bookshelves full to their top shelves with books lined the walls and candles lit up the room, and a table sat in the middle, four chairs around it. They all sat and Rowena and Farieni listened to Hermione and Draco's story of being back in the Middle Ages. Surprisingly they didn't ask why they'd come and why _they_ had been thrust forward one thousand and two hundred years into the future. Then they started their tale.

            When they were suddenly thrown into the year 1998 Rowena went straight to the Headmaster's office without wasting a second, demanded that she speak with the Headmaster "immediately, and no arguments" to the gargoyle, asking did it recognize her as the Ravenclaw founder. It hadn't budged, but Snape had been turning a corner and knew a switch had somehow been made. From then he lead Farieni and Rowena up to the Headmaster's office, and Dumbledore had taken it from there. They didn't go to any of their classes as a precaution and had stayed in Hogsmeade in the Golden Galleon, an inn at the end of High Street.

            Then they started feeling weird, and ended up in their old bodies.

            Hermione sighed, leaned her elbows on the table and rubbed her temples. "How? How could this happen? The potion -"

            "The potion was only an experiment. It wasn't guaranteed to work, nobody had ever traveled back this far in time." Rowena said, placing a hand on Hermione's arm. "We have to prepare a Time-Turner for you to go back. I will give you the sword, though I believe you know where it is." Hermione nodded. "The Time-Turner will take a month to make, and you two must stay at the Golden Galleon in that time. I will have my house-elves fit you with clothing and I will fetch food that will last a month for you - the inn's food is not the best I've had."

            "Will we be able to fight in any battles if there's any?" Draco asked from beside Hermione, and she looked over at him. His jaw was set and there was a fire in his eyes, but when he looked at Hermione something changed and he looked vulnerable, like he was going to cry. But no, not Draco Malfoy, not the Prince of Slytherin. He didn't cry.

            Or did he?

            "Yes. I hear Hermione is quite gifted in archery, so we will give you each a bow, as well as a sword. Hermione will be in charge of keeping Rowena's sword, as we have many enemies who will be able to find it if not, and it would be a waste to come this far for this long for the sword to be destroyed." Farieni spoke. It was one of the first times Hermione'd ever heard him talk.

            "Thank you," said Hermione. "We really do owe -"

            "You don't owe us a thing, my dear," Rowena smiled. "Just a safe keeping for the sword. Now, come, we've all been through a terribly exhausting ordeal, we'll go to the inn and bring your clothes in the morning."

            Out in the stables, Hermione took a Friesian with a white star on its head and climbed on, Draco taking an Arabian beside her. They glanced at each other as Rowena and Farieni started to lead the way to Hogsmeade, and Draco reached out for her hand. She reluctantly took it, wondering why he'd even offered, but the look in his eyes was troubling, and she was eager to find out that nagging 'why'. He said nothing, however, and she didn't ask.

            "The Yule Ball," spoke Draco a few nights after, as Hermione sat at the desk in their room, composing a letter. She wore a forest-green linen dress and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, he sporting a brown tunic and black hose, and he was lying on his back on the bed, his fingers laced beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

            "What?" she asked, pausing her writing and got up, splashing her face with cool water from the basin on the bedside table.

            "Fourth year, the Yule Ball...that's when I started to have feelings for you." She continued drying her face, though her heart was pounding in her throat. She didn't say anything, but just looked at him before going behind a screen and started to change into a simple white sheath for bed. "I don't know why, whether it was your hair pulled back or those robes you wore, but that was, I believe, the first night I ever really noticed you were pretty.

            "I didn't want to feel that way - imagine what my father would have said - but, I just figured it was just the way you looked that night. So, I waited. And the next morning at breakfast I couldn't stop looking at you, and I felt that same weight on my chest, or that twisting-sort of feeling in my stomach. God, this sounds cheesy, but it feels good to get it off my shoulders." Hermione let her hair out, walking over to the bed. She sat down beside him and he sat up, draping his arms loosely around his knees.

            "Keep going." She said.

            "Well, I waited...and waited. But the feeling never went away, and the only way I could hide it was to keep being my usual sarcastic, evil self to you, even though all I wanted to do was...well, kiss you." His cheeks flushed, and a single tear slid down her cheek, like a diamond glistening on an ivory wall.

            "You meant it? All of it?"

            "Do you really think I could lie about something like that?" he said thickly, his voice hoarse. "I'm not out to get you anymore, Hermione. I thought you knew that." He reached out and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

            "I wanted to make sure this isn't a dream."

            "It's far from a dream, Hermione." He leaned in and touched his lips to hers in a kiss more bittersweet and heartwrenching than their first, her hands sliding up through his hair, tears sliding down her cheeks more and more by the second, not even realizing he was leaning her back and the night was melting around them, the moon, their only witness, smiling in its orbit.


End file.
